


Web Me Harder

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (kinda), Bondage, Bottom Harry, Friends to Lovers, Louis webs Harry to the bed and fucks him, M/M, Spiderman AU, Top Louis, Zialliam don't exist sorry, but the plot is adorable too???, enjoy, face fucking, it's some of my best smut to date honestly, this is honestly top 5 faves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson, otherwise known as London's masked hero Spiderman, finds himself crashing through the window of Harry Styles one night after a particularly nasty fight with a villain. Luckily Harry is a nursing student with a soft spot for caped crusaders who's more than happy to tend to all of Louis' wounds, no matter how many times he swings by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Web Me Harder

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday present for the stunning Carly Rimmingprincess! You are my main bae, from the dawn of creation to the end of time. Hope you have a great year xoxo
> 
>  _"And if you want to keep me, you've got to got to got to got to got to ~~love~~ web me harder..."_ ;)

The thing no one ever tells you about being a superhero is that it's kind of a shitty job.

There are the cool things about it, of course. There are the hordes of fans and the medals from the city and the glamorous victories over terrifying villains. Those are the parts of the job that get praised in newspaper articles, that make children sigh wistfully in hopes that they too may one day save the city in a mask and a cape.

But the other side of being a hero, the side where your grades suffer because you're too busy fighting bad guys to study for your philosophy lecture and you wind up getting your ass kicked anyways, never quite makes it to the public eye.

It's been about a year since Louis was bitten by a radioactive spider on a class trip, and of all his many months of fighting crime as Spiderman, this is the shittiest day yet. The Green Goblin has shot him out of the air a record-breaking three times in one evening, one of which sends him careening into a construction site where his elbow is slammed into the unforgiving steel surface of a crane. The only thing good to come out of it is that his opponent appears to take this as an opportunity to retreat, whipping out of sight before the stars clear from Louis’ vision.

“I’m going to flunk out of university and I haven’t even caught the bad guy yet,” Louis grumbles to no one, watching fire trucks and police cars swarm to the area a few streets over where the worst of the damage occurred. He quickly decides to make his exit now, while the cover of darkness and the confusion below still mask his movements. He fires a quick web at a nearby building and pushes off his perch, freefalling for a split second before the web pulls taut and he’s arcing gracefully through the city skyline.

Or at least he  _ would _ be arcing gracefully, if it weren’t for his failure to account for the elbow he’s just busted during the fight. As soon as he tries to put weight on it Louis’ elbow wobbles and gives, and suddenly he’s careening through the air with no control. In desperation he webs onto another building, but in his panic he misses his mark and only serves to twist himself around and lose the final iota of directionality he had left.

He realizes he’s going to crash through the window about five seconds before he does, just enough time to mutter a ‘fuck!’ and jam his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. There’s a jolt and the deafening sound of a window breaking around him before the web snaps and Louis is crashing into a very lumpy bed.

“Holy fucking shit!” swears the lump beneath him, which Louis realizes a beat later is a boy, not much younger than him, green eyes wide with startlement and one hand rubbing the leg that Louis just landed on. He struggles up onto his elbows and looks at the man flopped on top of him. “Holy--  _ Spiderman?” _

“Not all that holy today,” Louis groans, forcing his body to roll off the bed and land on the floor with a graceless thud. He’s throbbing a little from head to toe, what wasn’t already hurt in the fight aching from the collision with a building. The cool hardwood beneath his back feels like a relief even through the tight fabric of his costume.

After a moment there’s a rustle of sheets, and the next time Louis opens his eyes he sees the boy leaning over the side of the bed peering down at him curiously, face framed by long, dark curls that hang down in disarray. “Are you alright?” he asks hesitantly, looking Louis over. “You look like hell.”

“Sounds about right.” Louis groans again and sits up with a tremendous amount of willpower, cradling his hurt arm against his chest. He tries to extend it and lets out a hiss as a sharp pain shoots up his arm. “Oh, fantastic. This’ll be a fun trip home.”

“What did you do to it?” the boy asks, reaching out towards Louis. “Where’s the pain, elbow or shoulder?”

“Uh, elbow,” Louis answers warily. “Hit it on a crane.”

“That’s one I’ve never heard before. Can I take a look? I’m a nursing student,” he explains when Louis answers only with silence. “I might be able to help.”

Louis’ already opening his mouth to refuse help when his elbow twinges painfully, and he finds himself nodding hesitantly. “Alright,” he says quietly. “But the mask stays on.”

“Sure thing,” the man replies easily. “Hop up on the bed and I’ll, uh, get dressed.”

He stands and wraps the blanket around his waist, and Louis notices for the first time that the boy in the bed was naked beneath his covers. Luckily the mask hides his blush.  _ Way to go, Lou, _ he thinks to himself.  _ This is not the proper context for being in bed with hot naked men. _

And he is pretty fit, Louis notices before the stranger disappears into the closet to change. He’s got dimples at the bottom of his spine which Louis wouldn’t mind getting ahold of. “What’s your name?” he calls out as he drags his aching body up onto the bed.

“Harry,” comes the answer. A head pops out of the closet to smirk at Louis. “Don’t suppose I’m allowed to ask yours.”

“Just ‘Spiderman’ is good.” Louis instinctively pulls his mask down further, though Harry doesn’t seem all that interested in ruining his secret identity as he emerges out of the closet in a tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. “You said you’re a nursing student? I hope you get good grades.”

“Top of my class, just about to graduate,” Harry answers breezily. “I promise you’re in good hands. How do you get out of your kit there? I need to look at the injury.”

“There’s a zipper on the back.” Harry moves to kneel on the bed behind Louis, gently tugging the zipper down to the small of his back and then rounding to the front so he can gently tug the fabric down Louis’ arm. “It’s probably nothing serious, it just hurts like a bitch.”

“My guess would be a contusion,” Harry answers after a great deal of poking and prodding and gauging how badly Louis was flinching. "Not much I can do for that except to wrap it up and give you some ice."

"Some help you are," Louis grumbles. "Can I web with it after that?"

"Dunno, never swung around on spiderweb that I've shot out of my hands, have I?" Harry doesn't even try to hide his smirk. "I would guess no, though, not for a few days. Take ibuprofen for the inflammation and pain but give it a rest before you try to put too much weight on it."

At that, Louis flops over backwards to stare up at the ceiling. "I'm going to have to take the  _ tube _ home?"

"Welcome to mortal life," laughs Harry. "The other people on the tube are going to have a laugh seeing Spiderman sitting next to them."

"I have regular clothes stashed in an alley near my apartment so I don't have to go into my building looking like this," Louis mumbles. "Maybe I need to get a little fanny pack to keep a change of clothes."

"You could wear some of mine so you look normal on the way home, if you want," offers Harry. "They'd be a little big on you, but it should work."

Louis doesn't answer right away, looking at Harry critically from behind his mask. “Why are you being so nice?” he asks finally. “I crashed through your window, landed on top of you, and yet you want to patch me up and give me clothes? Why?”

“The window sounds like my landlord’s problem, and you’re not the worst guy I’ve ever had in bed with me,” Harry says with a grin. “You save London on a weekly basis. The least I can do is help you out when you need it.”

All Louis can think to say is a simple, “Thank you.”

“No problem, Spidey. Here, you put on these--” Harry reaches into the top drawer of his dresser and tosses a vest and a pair of sweatpants to Louis, “--while I go get a wrap for your elbow. Okay?”

“Sure,” Louis says quietly, watching in mild fascination as Harry leaves the room and shuts the door behind him with an air of nonchalance, like he hasn’t just had his home invaded by a man in a mask.  “Bit odd, that one,” he whispers to himself.

By the time Harry knocks on the door and re-enters a few minutes later, Louis has removed all but the mask of the costume and dressed himself in Harry’s clothes. It must look a little silly, to be dressed normally except for a Spiderman mask, because Harry smirks a little before dropping his first aid kit on the bed next to Louis. “Arm please,” he simply says.

And so he proceeds to carefully wrap Louis’ elbow, binding it tight to relieve some of the pain and then handing over a plastic bag for Louis’ costume and an ice pack for the journey home. “Thank you again,” Louis says awkwardly, standing and following Harry through the little flat and to the front door. “Seriously, I’d be fucked if it weren’t for you.”

Harry just shrugs with equal awkwardness, a blush lighting up his cheeks as his hand lingers on the doorknob. “You might wanna--” He gestures to Louis’ face and the mask that remains there. “You know, before you walk out into the hall.”

“Right. Um, close your eyes.” Louis smiles when Harry does so at once, eyelashes fluttering shut and dimple appearing on his cheek as he grins. “I’m going to take off the mask now. No peeking.”

“Okay.”

Louis peels the mask off, feeling oddly vulnerable even with Harry’s eyes squeezed shut. He brushes the boy’s hand off the doorknob and opens it himself, stuffing the mask in the bag with the rest of his costume. “I’m uh- I’m going to go now. No peeking, still.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry says calmly. “See you around, Spiderman.”

It takes a long moment for Harry to realize that the stranger has slipped silently away, as he opens his eyes and finds himself alone in his flat once more. Louis hears him sigh from his hiding place around the corner, and as soon as he hears the latch slip back into place, he can’t help but whisper a little, “I certainly hope so.”

………………… 

A run-in with a masked superhero is an oddly dissatisfying experience.

On the one hand, once the shock has worn off Harry realizes that this is probably the single most exciting thing that will ever happen to him. It’s not every day that you’re woken in the middle of the night by a national hero flying through your window and into your bed, especially one who looks as fit with his shirt off as Spiderman-- not that Harry was looking of course.

(He was looking.)

But on the other hand, there was absolutely no one he could tell about it. Who would believe a wild tale like that? His friends would laugh, and even if they  _ did _ believe him, if word were to spread that Spiderman had been in his building there were bound to be people trying to steal security footage from the lobby in an attempt to find his secret identity. And no matter how good it would feel to be able to share his excitement, Harry just can’t bring himself to do that to him.

It still makes everything else feel a little mundane in comparison, though. The bodega where he buys his morning coffee has newspapers with front-page news of Spiderman’s fight the previous night with the Green Goblin, when Harry’s heard his voice. There are kids playing in the street pretending to shoot webs from the palms of their hands, when Harry’s touched his skin. It all just feels a little… unreal.

He would almost think it was all a dream, if it weren’t for the broken window he has to have replaced. The landlord doesn’t quite look like he believes that the massive hole was due to a pigeon flying into the pane of glass, but he agrees to come back and fix it later that day. “Stupid birds cause more damage to this building than tenants,” he grumbles as he carries the new window in. “Can you move your flowers for me so I can get through?”

“What flowers?” Harry asks in confusion, trailing after the landlord into the bedroom. “I don’t have any--”

But apparently he does, because right there on the floor in front of the broken window is a vase of white roses with pink tips next to a pile of Harry’s clothes, all freshly washed and folded with a note on top.  _ Thanks for taking care of me. xx --your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. _

Harry hurries to pick up the note and tuck it away in his pocket, out of sight. Just another story for his eyes only.

………………… 

_ Tap tap. _

The sound only barely penetrates the thick fog of slumber in Harry’s mind, easily passed off as some stirrings of his unconscious. One of his fingers twitches.

_ Tap tap tap. _

This time it’s a little louder, interrupting Harry’s drooling enough to make his brow furrow for a moment and his arms curl the duvet a little tighter around him. Still he sleeps on, ignoring the sound.

_ TAP TAP TAP. _

Harry jerks awake at the racket from his window, eyes bleary with sleep and hair all askew as he sits bolt upright. There’s a dark silhouette framed by the fresh glass, and for one wild moment Harry thinks he’s about to have his apartment broken into before he remembers that he lives on the eighth floor and there’s only one person who could be clinging to the brick of his building like that.

“Spiderman,” Harry breathes, almost falling out of bed in his rush to untangle himself from his sheets and move to open the window. “It’s been two weeks, I was beginning to think you’d never drop by again,” he says when the hero is climbing through the opening rather gingerly. “I would have sent a thank you for the flowers, but. No return address.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Spiderman quips, though his voice is more tired than jovial. “Hiya, Harry. Y’alright?”

“I was having a lovely dream about baked goods before you barged in. What about you, are  _ you _ alright?” Harry adds as he notices the limp in Spiderman’s stride as he steps a little further into the room.

A heavy sigh. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

“I would never.”

Spiderman limps over to the lightswitch and flicks it on, and when his eyes adjust Harry does have to bite down on his knuckle in his efforts to keep a straight face. The man’s back is covered from waist to ankle in tiny little needles, looking more like a pincushion than a superhero. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe that this is from some horrifying new villain you’re saving us from?”

“Nope, just landed arse-first in a rooftop cactus garden,” sighs the pincushion. “Who even grows cacti in London? Honestly, Lou, of all the rooftops you could have landed on, it has to be the  _ one _ that’s covered in fucking cacti.”

“Well, cacti are pretty horrifying, too,” Harry says kindly. “Lay down on the bed, on your front. I assume you came here for more free help?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” It’s hard to tell with his face covered, but he sounds rather sheepish. He makes his way over to the bed with awkward, shuffling steps, breath hissing in through his teeth as the needles shift in his skin. Finally he flops onto the mattress and wiggles his way to the middle with a pained groan. “I feel like a reverse porcupine.”

“Porcupineman doesn’t have the same ring to it,” muses Harry, taking a second to giggle at his own joke before moving to sit cross-legged on the bed next to his patient. They’re both quiet as he begins picking the needles from his skin carefully and collecting them in his hand, until Harry finally works up the nerve to clear his throat. “So, uh-- Lou, is that your name?”

He can feel the back muscles beneath his hands tense suddenly, but then there’s a great sigh and Spiderman --Lou-- nods. “Didn’t mean to say that, but yeah. Louis, actually. I suppose if you’re about to pick needles out of my bum for me, you should at least get to know my name.”

“I’ll consider it payment in full,” Harry murmurs with a smile that Louis can’t see.

Although really, if Harry’s being honest, just the opportunity to pick cactus needles from Louis’ body is more than payment enough for the midnight interruption and free medical treatment. There’s the obvious thrill of hanging out with a  _ real life superhero, _ of course, but beyond that, Harry has never been one to be opposed to spending an extended period of time up close and personal with a man’s curves.

And Louis has some  _ fantastic _ curves. The skintight costume hides absolutely nothing, and that makes it easy for Harry to admire the tight swell of Louis’ bum and the way it flexes a little in pain every time a needle is removed. His thighs are a work of art too, thick and strong in a way that makes Harry sort of want to put his head between them. He’s cute and curvy all the way down to his toes, but as Harry runs his hand over the surface of Louis’ body one last time to check for stray needles he can feel that it’s all muscle, and Harry can’t bring himself to be more than passingly ashamed of the fact that he’s half-hard in his pajama bottoms. He’s only human, after all.

He rises from the bed and hurries from the room with his handful of needles before Louis can notice his predicament, dumping them in the bathroom trash and digging through the medicine cabinet for something to send home with Louis. Thinking back to his schooling calms down the hormones a bit, and a minute later he walks back into the bedroom and hands a little tube to Louis, who’s sitting up on the edge of the bed. “When you get home, try to put this everywhere that you got pricked,” he instructs. “It’s an antibacterial cream, it’ll stop the wounds from getting infected. They weren’t very big needles so the punctures aren’t big, but try to keep applying the ointment until they’re scabbed over. Okay?”

“You got it, doc,” Louis says, sounding much happier now that he’s not being jabbed in dozens of places all down his legs. “I owe you more flowers.”

“Sunflowers are my favorite, for future reference,” grins Harry. “How’s the elbow?”

“Still a little stiff, but it’s pretty much better now. Spidey healing and all that. I can web around on it again, which is awesome. Be a shame if I couldn’t come up to see you anymore, wouldn’t it?”

Harry looks at the fabric eyes of Louis’ mask, wondering what kind of expression he’s wearing beneath it. Eventually he just smiles and ducks his head. “I bet. Then you’d have to pay a proper doctor to take care of you.”

“Who needs a doctor when I’ve got the best nurse in London?” Louis asks brightly, and before Harry can think of a reply, he’s climbing out the window and freefalling through the night with a joyful whoop. Harry gets to the window in time enough to see him fire a string of web at a nearby building and take off through the streets, disappearing into the night without so much as a goodbye. 

………………… 

After that, the ice is pretty much broken and Louis swings by whenever something ails him. Harry starts leaving his window unlocked so that Louis can let himself in, rather than having to hang out tapping on the glass for twenty minutes until Harry wakes up. Then he’ll nudge Harry awake and entertain him with wild stories of whatever baddie he’s slain tonight while Harry tends to his bruises and scrapes.

The more times Louis comes to see him, though, the less he needs to entertain Harry in return for his services rendered. It’s enough just to see Louis, just to hear his voice and listen to his infectious enthusiasm and touch him even in these platonic little ways. The more times Louis comes to see him, the more Harry suspects that he might be in love.

Which is silly -- _ really _ silly-- because he’s never even seen the man’s face. To fall in love with a superhero he knows relatively nothing about is no different than the little girls who swoon over him when he’s on the news, in love with the idea of a hero without even needing to know who he is.

Except that Harry  _ does _ know Louis, in his own way. He knows that Louis will complain about an insignificant bump for twenty minutes straight, but will grit his teeth and insist he’s fine when the injury is actually serious. He knows that Louis holds himself personally responsible for any damage done by a villain he fails to stop. He knows that sometimes Louis will swing by primary schools during recess because it makes the kids’ day to see Spiderman and he loves the sound of children laughing. He knows plenty enough to be in love.

It’s not that he  _ wants _ Louis to get hurt --far from it-- but there’s always a little leap of excitement in his gut when he sees that familiar red and blue. He spends most nights like this one, propped up in bed and waiting to see if tonight will be one of the good nights.

A heavy knock sounds at the front door to Harry’s flat, making him grumble as he pulls on a hoodie and some sweatpants to cover his boxers. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he calls when the knocking continues. “It’s like ten at night, who could possibly--”

It’s Louis, all done up in his Spiderman costume and sagging heavily against the doorframe. “Boy, you’re a grumpy old man tonight, aren’t you?”

“What are you doing here?” Harry hisses, grabbing Louis by the elbow and dragging him inside with a furtive look up and down the hall and a slam of the door. “Did you just walk through the lobby like that? What if somebody saw you?”

“I’m sure they did, but I have a head injury and it felt like a bad idea to go flying around after that, so. The tube felt smarter.”

Now that he looks, Harry does notice a cut in the material of Louis’ mask up by his forehead that is bleeding at a pretty steady rate. “Go sit on the bed,” he says at once, all business at the sight of blood. Louis obeys, and Harry digs around in the bathroom for the medical kit he now takes to keeping in the flat with him at all times just for visits like these.

“I don’t actually think it’s that serious,” Louis defends when Harry enters the bedroom. “It doesn’t really hurt, it’s just a bump.”

“It’s a bump on your head, where all of your precious few brain cells are stored. I think I’ll be the one to judge how serious it is.” Harry pulls on a pair of gloves and reaches out to examine the wound, then pulls his hands back with a gulp. “Uh, Lou? You’re going to have to take your mask off.”

The costumed face turns upward for a tense moment and then Louis is nodding gently. “Okay.”

Harry blinks down at him in surprise. “Just like that? ‘Okay’? No trying to find away around it, no defense about your secret identity?”

“Harry, I’ve come in through your window at least once a week for three months now and trusted you with my life. I think I can trust you with my face.”

Louis reaches up and hooks his thumbs beneath the bottom of his mask, tugging it up and off and running a hand through his somewhat matted hair before looking up at Harry. He’s got these stunning blue eyes and pretty features, the sharp line of his jaw accentuated by a hint of scruff. His high, delicate cheekbones are pinkened with a blush as he watches Harry look him over.

“Wow,” Harry says breathlessly. “You’re even more gorgeous than I was imagining.”

“You were imagining I was gorgeous?” Louis asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles.

“You just seemed like someone who would be a knockout underneath the mask.” Harry reaches up and has to pull his hand back before touching Louis’ cheek, just beneath the eyes he’s been waiting so long to look into. “I underestimated you, though.”

Louis looks down with a little laugh, shuffling his feet for a moment before looking back up. “Taking the mask off has some distinct advantages, I think.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well for starters, now I can kiss you,” he says, reaching up to grab Harry by the string of his hoodie and tug him down until he’s close enough to lean forward and press his lips tenderly to Harry’s.

A fizzing kind of warmth fills Harry from head to toe as he smiles into the kiss, cupping Louis’ face in his hands despite the strange sensation of the latex gloves between them. “Definitely an advantage,” he giggles, dimples appearing when Louis snakes an arm around his waist and topples them back onto the mattress so that Harry is lying half on top of him as they kiss. “Have you been wanting to kiss me as long as I’ve been wanting to kiss you, or--?”

“Since I realized halfway through your lobby that first night that the tee shirt you gave me was ancient Spiderman merch. You’re an adorable little geek, Harry the Nurse.”

That only serves to make Harry dimple harder. “Guilty as charged.” The happy little kiss is cut short, however, when Harry feels something wet on the side of Louis’ face. “Oh, gross!” he yelps, jerking away at once.

Louis gapes up at him. “Am I that bad of a kisser?”

“No, it’s the-- you’re bleeding, remember? Shit, sit back up.” Mollified, Louis rights himself once more and lets Harry take a cotton ball of hydrogen peroxide to his cut, cleaning up Louis’ forehead with a grimace. “I’m going to have to stitch you up, but you should be fine soon,” he says as he works. “Your cuts always heal up quickly and you don’t seem concussed. Just be careful not to pull the stitches and take paracetamol for the pain.”

“Look at you, taking such good care of me,” Louis winks as Harry starts to sew him up, barely even wincing at the pain. “My hero.”

“Right, because  _ I’m _ the hero in the room.”

Louis reaches out to poke Harry’s side gently. “Be nice to me, Harold, and I might even pick back up where we left off.”

At that Harry quiets and Louis makes good on his promise, waiting until Harry’s finished the stitches and disposed of all the dirty materials before tugging Harry down onto the bed with him. This time he’s the one who climbs on top, kneeling above Harry and leaning down to kiss him tenderly, drawing a satisfied hum out of the boy beneath him.

Louis’ hands find Harry’s waist and slip beneath the hem of his hoodie, loving the way he can feel the soft, warm skin flutter and jump beneath his touch. “You should take this off,” he suggests as his hands slide further up. By the time his fingertips reach Harry’s nipples and tease with a little tweak, Harry is already tugging the hoodie over his head and tossing it aside so he can take Louis’ face in his hands and kiss him harder.

“Ouch,” Louis mumbles a minute later, when the deepening kiss has Harry’s fingers tangling in his hair and pulling at his injured scalp. Harry mumbles an apology. They make it another minute or so before Harry accidentally pulls once more.  _ “Ow, _ Harry, my stitches!”

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Harry blushes. “You’re very hot and you have amazing hair. It’s a hard instinct to suppress.”

Louis takes one look at Harry’s mane of curls and can’t argue with that.

The third time Harry unconsciously yanks, Louis grabs his wrists and puts them up at the headboard without skipping a beat, shooting a thin stream of web from his palms to secure them above Harry’s head. “Behave yourself,” he says with a huff. “I’m a delicate creature, I’ll not be manhandled. At least, not today.”

He expects to get some sort of witty retort out of Harry then, but Harry just looks up at him with glazed eyes and licks his lips distractedly. “Yes, sir.”

Rather than replying, Louis leans back down to kiss Harry again, running his hands up and down Harry’s bare chest and enjoying the way it makes him wiggle with the sensation. He can feel Harry hardening in his sweats, polite enough not to buck up into Louis but growing needier for attention by the minute. Louis lets one hand trail down to thumb at the soft hair beneath Harry’s belly button. “I want to touch you,” he murmurs, a little shyly. “Can I?”

“Absolutely,” Harry breathes at once. He lifts his hips up slightly and lets Louis slip his sweatpants and boxers down past the swell of his bum. “Will you take your suit off? I want to see you.”

Louis continues to kiss Harry’s neck, making a little hickey there as he reaches back to grab the zipper on his suit and shimmy it down. “Just a sec,” he mutters, climbing off the bed so he can peel the skintight fabric from his body until he’s down to just a tight pair of briefs.

Harry eyes him hungrily from head to toe. “So  _ that’s _ what you wear under the suit.”

“Come off it, you perv!” Louis laughs as he straddles Harry once more. “It’s bad enough you’ve been fantasizing about what my face looked like, now you’re going to tell me you’ve been daydreaming about my skivvies?”

_ “I’m _ the perv? I’m not the one using his superpowers to web an innocent man to his bed,” Harry teases.

“You don’t look very innocent to me,” Louis fires back, pointedly reaching out to run a fingertip down Harry’s cock from tip to base, watching it twitch excitedly at his touch. There’s a little bead of white at the slit already.

Of course Louis looks far from innocent himself, licking his lips and absently palming himself through his briefs as he wiggles a little further down the bed. He kisses the tip of Harry’s cock first, the precum dewing on his lips before his tongue darts out to taste it. Harry barely has time to whimper before Louis is sliding his mouth down onto the length, one hand coming up to hold it steady as he bobs up and down it.

It’s probably a good thing that Harry’s hands are webbed tightly to the headboard, because if he has a hard time containing himself while kissing Louis then he’d be hopeless at keeping his hands to himself with Louis between his thighs. As it is, Louis has to use his free hand to pin Harry’s hips down with a display of strength enough to make Harry even harder. “Shit, you feel too good,” he groans, face heating up in a blush as he realizes that he probably won’t last more than a few more minutes. “You don’t have to-- fuck!”

Louis apparently only takes his embarrassment as encouragement, slowing down his pace a bit so he can go deeper. At first his throat is tense, muscles taut against the tip of Harry’s cock, but then with a tremble and a look of great concentration Louis relaxes, sliding down until Harry can feel himself being swallowed down gloriously.

The hand that’s been gripping his thigh hard enough to leave fingernail marks in his skin is slowly pried off, tapping his hip lightly before both hands move to the mattress on either side of Harry. For a second he doesn’t get it, waiting in agony for Louis to move again and give friction to his aching cock, until Louis snickers around his mouthful and slips a hand beneath Harry’s bum, nudging it upwards until he’s thrusting shallowly into Louis’ mouth.

“Oh--  _ oh,” _ Harry says brilliantly, the tension between his thighs kicking up a notch just in anticipation. Louis tilts his head up to lock eyes with him just as he starts to fuck up into his mouth, so Harry can watch bright blue eyes tear up and flutter shut, his head ducking once more to take each thrust, gasping and gagging but never pulling back even as Harry’s hips start to move a little sloppily.

The entire length of Harry’s cock is wet with spit and Louis gives a moan that’s quickly cut off as he’s gagged by Harry again. The sound, paired with the vibration it sends down Harry’s length, has him whimpering and his thighs tensing around Louis. “Louis,” he pants, “Lou, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna--”

Louis just reaches down to palm himself at the words and Harry’s done for, hips stilling as he feels his orgasm starting to peak. Louis feels it too, closing his lips around Harry’s cock and providing just the right amount of suction to send him crashing over the edge, coming in Louis’ mouth with a load groan and a tug at his wrists that makes the headboard rattle dangerously.

It takes a long minute for the aftershocks to die down, but when they do Louis pulls off at last, crawling up Harry at once to give him a sloppy kiss. “That’s for the stitches,” he says coyly.

“I’m not that good of a nurse,” Harry answers dazedly. “I don’t deserve that. I think you overpaid me.”

“I tip well.”

_ “Extremely _ well.” Harry leans up for another kiss, a slower one this time, and as Louis melts into him, it’s apparent that Louis is very far from satisfied, if the bulge in the front of his briefs is anything to go by. “Are you gonna get off, too?”

“Do you want me to?” Louis asks sheepishly.

“You deserve to, that’s for sure.” Harry pulls his knees up and brings Louis tighter into his chest in lieu of being able to hug him. “You could- you could fuck me, if you wanted to,” he suggests after a beat.

Louis pulls back in surprise. “But you just--”

“I’m a twenty year-old man in excellent shape,” Harry interrupts to defend. “I’m alright for you to fuck me. I  _ want _ for you to fuck me.”

A long pause. Louis drinks him in, from the wide pupils to the skin glowing with a sheen of sweat, the curls in disarray around his flushed face, and bites his lip. “You have no idea how badly I want to be inside of you right now.”

“So get your kit off and do it.”

That’s all the encouragement Louis needs. He pulls back and quickly shucks his briefs, sparing a few strokes for himself where he’s red and very, very hard. “Condoms? Lube?” he asks as he untangles the sweats and boxers from around Harry’s knees and throws them aside, too. “I know it’s bad form not to bring your own, but the pocket situation on that suit is abysmal.”

“That's about as good an excuse as you can get. Help yourself to the nightstand.” Harry pauses to frown. “As your doctor --ish-- I should probably inform you that you shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous with a head injury.”

“I’m sorry, should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Louis grins and grabs a bottle and a packet and puts them on the bed next to him, carefully squeezing some of the gel onto his fingers and rubbing them together until they’re coated. When he looks up, Harry’s already got his knees bent and his legs spread wide, cheeks still flushed from one orgasm and eyes begging for another. Louis watches his eyelashes flutter when he reaches out and trails his slick fingers across Harry’s hole, making a mess of the whole area before bringing his middle finger to press gently against his entrance.

This time Harry stays still, sucking in his breath while Louis pushes his finger inside. After a second he relaxes and starts to breathe again, jerking his chin a little. “Another.” Louis slowly slides another finger in next to the first, pumping them gently into Harry until he nods again. “Another.” Now Louis crooks his fingers as he pushes the third in, causing Harry to hiss and buck his hips with a slightly strangled laugh. “Go easy on me,” he begs breathily. “Give me a second, just a second--”

Louis’ just about to tell them that there’s no rush and he can take all the time he needs, but even as Harry speaks his cock is starting to harden again, the burning stretch of fingers filling him up washing over him. “Do you want another?” Louis asks instead.

Harry lifts his head, takes one look between Louis’ thighs, and drops his head back onto the pillow. “Yes please.”

“So polite,” laughs Louis, obliging. He starts working up a steady rhythm with his wrist, pumping four fingers in and out of Harry until his body is relaxed and his cock hard and he’s moaning when Louis catches his prostate rather than hissing. He’s a vision, all fucked out and eager for more, webbed to the headboard and not bothered a bit. “You’re gorgeous,” Louis tells him, feeling his own cock getting wet at the sight.

The compliment just makes Harry’s cheeks pinken even further. “I’m ready,” he says quietly. “Please, Lou.”

“You got it, babe,” answers Louis. He pulls out his fingers and wipes them on the duvet so he can open the condom packet, fingers clumsy as he rolls it on. With that, he moves to kneel between Harry’s thighs, leaning down to kiss him slowly and gently. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

Harry’s lips part beneath Louis’ in a moan as Louis presses inside, his back arching up into the sensation as tight little pumps work the length inside him. “How the fuck do you get that into that stupid costume?” he swears, eyes jammed shut as he tries to relax around Louis.

“Magic,” quips Louis at once, breathless, “and it’s not stupid. I think it’s quite dashing.”

“Not stupid,” Harry agrees, more than a little dazed himself. “Makes you look proper fit. You should wear it all the time.”

“Mmm, I’d rather be naked. Preferably in a bed, with you.”

Harry’s face finally relaxes into a smile and his eyelids flutter open once more, eyes bright and pupils wide. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good look as well.”

The banter kind of falls apart after that, because Louis grabs the lube from the sheets beside them and slicks up his hand to stroke Harry in time with the movements of his hips, and Harry keeps wiggling beneath him in an attempt to get Louis deeper that absolutely drives Louis up the wall. Harry’s collarbones are littered with lovebites now, lips swollen from desperate kisses, and Louis can feel the muscles in his stomach starting to tense.

“Harry, I’m close,” he gasps, head dropped against Harry’s shoulder in exhaustion. “What do you need to come again?”

“Nothing,” Harry groans at once, turning his face into Louis’ disarrayed hair so he’s purring right into Louis’ ear. “Just keep fucking me just-- like-- that--”

And Louis does, picking his head up and kissing Harry again, driving hips home with all the energy he has left, feeling himself speeding towards orgasm. “Harry--!” is all he has time to say before he’s coming, gripping Harry close to him and filling him up with a shout and a series of swears.

It’s like a chain reaction, Harry following suit not three seconds later, bucking up into Louis’ fist with a whimper and making a mess between their stomachs. There’s a sound like the ripping of fabric and suddenly there’s an arm around Louis’ shoulders holding him tight, a bracelet of frayed web around Harry’s wrist where it finally gave way to Harry’s frantic tugs and pulled free of the headboard. “Shit, fuck, yeah,” he shouts, “Louis!”

They come down together, both of them sighing with release at the exact same moment, Harry combing through Louis’ hair with shaky fingers while Louis rubs soft, comforting circles in the mess on Harry’s stomach with his thumb. “I can’t believe you pulled free,” he says absently, weakly lifting his head to smile at the boy beneath him. “You know, most of the time they have to cut people free of that stuff.”

Harry shrugs his free shoulder without a drop of concern and grins up at Louis. “Well, I guess next time you’ll just have to web me harder.”

“‘Harder,’” Louis echoes with a smirk. “Yeah, I can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm about to graduate college which means no school and no job... bad news is poor and moving back in with my homophobic parents BUT more time to write fic? Expect to see more from me this summer.
> 
> Also, cheers on my 50TH Larry fanfic!!! ~~jesus christ what am I doing~~
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


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